


Mission Bells

by DetectiveRiley (RavenWhitecastle)



Series: The Sinner and the Saint [37]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grounding, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-20 23:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/DetectiveRiley
Summary: I had a dream you diedAnd I just wanna be with you tonightMission bells were ringingSomewhere higher-Song by Matt Nathanson
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Series: The Sinner and the Saint [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/940422
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Mission Bells

John was tossing and turning in his sleep again, rousing Harold from his slumber. Harold looked over at his sleeping partner. His brow furrowed. Harold himself suffered from parasomnia, and they both had nightmares frequently. Tonight, John was tossing his head, mumbling Harold’s name. It was a bad one. They’d weathered many nights together, and Harold was used to comforting John in the aftermath, but it still pained Harold to see John in so much distress. Rolling over, he touched John lightly on the shoulder, trying to pull him from his nightmare. “John?”

John squeezed his eyes tighter. Harold grabbed John’s shoulder and shook. 

“ _ No! _ ” John awoke in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright and panting heavily. 

“John.” There was a hand on John’s shoulder. He turned to see Harold watching him carefully. John sighed. Harold was safe. 

“It’s all right,” Harold murmured, “It’s 3:02 in the morning on Tuesday, June 12th.”

John nodded, taking a deep breath. They were at home, in bed. The cold tickle on his forehead wasn’t howling wind, but the gentle breeze from the window. The warmth against his stomach was just a tangle of sheets. 

After letting John ground himself for a moment, Harold spoke again. “Are you all right?”

John cleared his throat. It felt raw, even though he was sure he hadn’t been screaming out loud. “I’m fine,” he managed, his voice thick and hoarse, “Just another nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

_ Not really.  _ John swallowed. He wanted to crawl back under the covers and escape the itch to get his gun and sweep the house. But he knew Harold wanted the truth. “You died,” he whispered, “again. Greer shot you on top of the Samaritan building this time.” It was a common theme. Losing the people he loved. Sometimes it was people he’d already lost, but it was dreams about losing Harold that hurt the worst. 

Harold nodded, holding out his arm. “Come here.” John obeyed, curling up against Harold’s chest, and Harold ran a hand through John’s hair. “We’ve been here before,” Harold whispered, “We’ll make it through. We always do.”

He was right. It was almost routine at this point. One of them would wake the other, and they would ground each other in reality, huddling closer until morning came. To John’s relief, Harold was understanding and didn’t seem to mind holding John until they both fell back to sleep.

John didn’t want to close his eyes again. Every time he did, he saw Harold’s glassy eyes, and Harold’s blood on his hands. So John let himself settle closer as he listened to Harold’s heartbeat beneath his ear, reassuring himself that Harold was fine. 

After a few minutes spent in silence, John spoke. “Do you ever think about stopping?”

Harold didn’t have to ask what he meant. “You know we can’t stop.”

“Because innocent people will get hurt?” John guessed. “But what about everyone else?”

“What about Fusco? What about Root, and Shaw?” He paused, before he softly added, “What about us?”

Harold sighed. “Root and Shaw knew what they were getting into. We’ve all put our lives on the line for this.”

“That was before,” John replied in a whisper.

Harold paused in his ministrations. “Before what?”

“You.” John propped himself up on his elbow to look Harold in the eyes. “You gave me a purpose, which I’ll always be grateful for. But I always thought I’d die doing this job, until you gave me something to live for. And maybe I’m just being selfish, but…” Shakily, he finished, “I can’t lose you.”

Harold held his gaze. “I know. I know, John, I don’t want to lose you either.”

“No,” John whispered, his voice strangled. “I  _ can’t _ .” There was a heavy silence, and Harold saw the wheels turning in John’s mind. “I don’t know what I would do,” he said, finally, “The nightmares never get that far. But I don’t want to find out who I am without you. Harold…” John gripped Harold’s upper arm tightly. “Please. I can’t lose you. We have to stop.”

Harold was startled by the intensity of John’s plea, but he knew John was right. Putting their own lives at risk for the sake of their numbers made sense when they were merely business partners. But now they were so much more, and the stakes were so much higher. “Okay. Okay, John. I’ll think about it.” Harold pulled John back to his chest and tucked him in under the sheets. “It’s okay, go back to sleep.” 

With Harold’s reassurance, John drifted off again. Harold was left watching over his sleeping lover, wondering about their future.


End file.
